


Lost

by bravelikealady



Category: The Tudors (TV), The Tudors (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravelikealady/pseuds/bravelikealady





	Lost

He was there again, that long hall, those vaulted ceilings, the way her dark eyes looked into his own…  The sun kissed her head, neck, her hint of breast through the dancing color of that stained glass.  _ Again and again, I crown you… I make you a queen. _

 

He sees delicate fingers reaching, lifting food to that dazzling mouth, that bit of juice resting on her bottom lip, the moment where he forgot to be a king, reached out, wiped it away, pressed his lips into hers.  _ Golden, you were golden.  _

 

The cold grips him and he is no longer in those hallowed halls. My father, he thinks, but pushes it away, goes back to that night.  _ My Queen. _ The dizzying sprint from the banquet hall, wine turning his mind but only towards her, over and over, an orbit of worship, of love. 

 

She was his now.  _ Mine, mine, mine. _ They shooed away guards and kiss by kiss found themselves alone. His arms are around her again, his hand around her neck, she is biting his lip, he is unlacing her dress, she is on him, he is in her, the smell of her hair-

 

_ Cold. Why is it so cold? _

 

He is vaguely aware of a physician, balms, oils, unhelpful words… he can fight to cling to this place or he can fight to go back, back into her arms… Anne…

 

Her head rests on his shoulder. His fingers tangle in her hair. Her sighs, her little sighs… How long had he gone on without remembering them? Rest found her with deeper and deeper breaths, but she sighs in between them as she shifts between sleeping and waking.  _ Sighed. Sighed. She is gone. She is gone, you… _

 

There is a hand against his head. But it is not hers.  _ Elizabeth _ , he whispers, or tries to.  _ My poor Elizabeth…  _

 

He wants to finish remembering. Her sighs. Her dark eyes fluttering closed.  _ Did she close them before… No…  _

 

He is there again, curling his hand into hers, facing her, kissing her lips, softly, her nose, her forehead, and as he drifted to sleep he remembers, the small smile that passed her lips as a blissful sigh parted his lips before he gave over to dreams.  _ Anne, Sweet Anne, I love you. _

 

His confessor brings him back.  _ My sins are greater than can be _ . He lets his eyes water, lets the tears spill. He is a king and no one will tell him he should not cry. 

 

“I should like Cranmer to come to me, on the morrow,” he says, trying desperately to remember how a King speaks. 

 

“It is not like that you are long for this worl-”

“I SAID TOMORROW. That is… this is all for today.”

 

He is alone again. 

 

In and out of fitful sleep he hears the cries of many, but Anne… Anne is the loudest. He sees her, clutching Elizabeth, trying to hide her tears. Weak and grey promising more sons. He sees her, hears her, smells her, but cannot… cannot touch her.

 

“Cranmer is on his way, sir.”

 

He does not know the voice, cannot place it, does not care to place it. 

 

There is blinding pain.

 

There is painful silence.

 

All is gold, suddenly, gold… and there she stands.

 

_ Anne… _

 

She does not speak.

 

_ Anne…  _

 

He reaches out. He falls to his knees. He kisses her feet, his hands grip her skirts, he looks up at her.

 

She is not smiling. She is not smiling and he knows it is his fault.

 

_ I tried to be a most virtuous prince. I tried. _

 

Between heaven and hell, her face. His heart is wild, beating angrily. His breaths come less and less frequently.

 

_ Anne… _

 

He reaches out, wraps his hands around her waist, presses his head to her stomach. Henry feels a trickle and, looking up, discovers that it is blood, thick, wet, dripping from her pretty little neck. She throws his hands down and turns to leave him. She is walking into the light, leaving him behind in darkness.

 

His hands catch her sleeve as his heart stops beating.  _ Do not go _ . With the last breath of his life, he cries,  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ . 

Cranmer sits in darkness, clutching the hand of a once virtuous prince, of a once mad king.

  
  



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